The Only Way This Can Work
by Swa-Sa Masou
Summary: Francis and Mary had a rough road even before the issues of season 2B. A tower-fic
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: Mary and Francis had a rough road with lots of issues even before all of the events o later season 2. A Tower fic._**

"Francis! Francis! FRANCIS!" Mary's voice grew hoarse as her husband rounded a corner. She sat down in a huff, barely holding back tears. They were supposed to be married. They were husband and wife, equals. They were a prince and a queen. Were they in Scotland, she would pull rank on him. As it was, here she was his consort and his guards were surely not listen to her. It would be too late to go to Scotland with her brother by the time Francis returned.

She abruptly stood and went to grasp the bars on the door. She summoned a guard to make eye contact with her. She used her most regal voice. The same voice she had used with the men she thought would be going to Scotland to fight for her. If this failed, she didn't know how to sound firmer or more threatening. "Fine, the dauphin has made his point. Take me back to our chambers now. I won't be going anywhere for now. Unlock the door and escort me or you will surely face his wrath for denying me. For denying the Queen of Scotland."

The guard looked shaken at the order, and his reply was anything but sure, "I'm sorry, your Grace, but we were given very strict orders to only let you out on orders from the King, the Dauphin, or Sebastian."

Sebastian? Bash? Why would Francis leave them with instructions to allow Bash to let her out? Mary tried to hide the shock on her face. She had to find a way to use this information to her advantage. She couldn't go to Scotland, but she could feel like she had some bit of control over her life if she could make it back to their chambers without Francis' help.

Fear clearly wasn't working on this guard, so she needed to switch tactics. Well, men had no inkling of women's problems, she could try an old idea that had worked previously, "I must leave this room." She repeated, knowing that the guard wasn't going to budge.

"I'm sorry, your Grace, but I cannot let you out." He looked to be softening to her and to be sympathetic to her, but he was more afraid of Francis than to let her out.

Sighing loudly, theatrically, Mary slumped against the door and adopted a voice that suggested she was embarrassed to say the next words aloud, "If you won't allow me to leave, you must send for one of my ladies. I need" she paused again, for effect, to seem as though she was struggling with her words. "I require assistance." The guards had both turned to look at her at the change in her tone. The two exchanged glances with one another. They clearly weren't too attuned to what a woman could need help with. That helped her even more. "I require a certain item that one of my ladies can bring me and help me with. You must understand."

The two guards both blushed a deep red, the one she hadn't yet spoken directly to began to back down the corridor. "I shall fetch one of your ladies right away, your Grace."

"Thank you!" Mary called after him and then turned around, a triumphant smile upon her face that she was careful to conceal from the remaining guard.

* * *

Some time passed, but eventually Kenna came walking up to the door of the tower, carrying a basket and a mug. She was wearing a smile, but as soon as the door was opened for her to enter, she dropped it to wear one of confusion. Dropping her voice to something barely higher than a whisper, she questioned Mary, "I'm happy to help when you need this, but I know that you needed this two weeks ago. It's highly unlikely that you actually need the ginger tea right now. Or did I misunderstand that guard? He was mumbling something about women's problems and said that you required the assistance of one of your ladies and a special item. Honestly, why men can't handle talking about monthly bleeding is beyond me. They're all so interested in that part of our anatomy any other time of the month."

Mary smirked. She normally would have reprimanded Kenna for speaking so openly, but she needed the help. Keeping her voice as low as Kenna's Mary revealed her plan to Kenna, "I was being as nonspecific as possible. I just needed one of the guards to get one of you. You're correct, this did come two weeks ago. I'm not in need of this type of help, but what men assume is up to their minds. I need you to go fetch Bash."

Kenna interrupted her friend and queen, "Bash? My husband? Why do you need him?"

The jealousy Mary heard warmed her heart. She was happy that the two of them could find companionship together. "For some reason, Bash is on the short list of people to whom these guards can release me. Francis trusts Bash and I'm guessing he's allowed to get me out of here if he thinks his negotiations will take too long."

Kenna smiled brightly, "I love it. I'll go and find him right away. Then you must tell all of us why you're being hidden away in here."

Arms crossed tightly and with all of the anger appearing once again on her face, Mary promised that she would as Kenna rapped on the door to let the guards know to let her out.

Waiting for the guard to get Kenna had seemed like an eternity compared to how quickly Bash appeared at her door. Unsure of how much Kenna would have told him, Mary was expecting him to be let in and for her to have to explain the plan again. Instead, to her surprise, his voice rang out sure and strong, "I am here to escort the Queen Mary back to the chambers she shares with the dauphin. Open the door." The tower's barrier swung open and Mary stepped lightly out of it.

Once they were safely out of the earshot of the guards who were now dismissed for the night, Mary clutched Bash's arm, "Oh, Bash thank you. Thank you so much for coming to get me."

Bash looked angry, but his face softened at her apology. "It's really not fair for my wife and you to conspire against my better judgment. I just started to get along with my brother again and now I've freed you from where he obviously wants you. I'm not leaving you alone without his approval. Come, we're going to meet Kenna at your chambers and she and I will stay with you until Francis returns."

All too happy to have the company instead of being left alone in her anger, Mary sauntered ahead of him to collect Kenna and to share the whole tale of how she came to be a prisoner at her husband's hand.


	2. Chapter 2

Francis was dragging as he left the negotiations with the Cardinal. The man, though having taken vows of celibacy, seemed very insulted that Mary hadn't been present in the room during these discussions. He was slow to agree to anything and kept asking if Mary would be able to attend the meetings the next day. When Francis answered that he wasn't sure when the queen would be feeling well again, the Cardinal began to be even more uncooperative.

He loved his wife, but so many issues could be so easily solved if she wasn't so headstrong and willful. Now he had to go and collect his wife from that damn tower. She was going to be a joy to deal with in this state. To be fair, he probably deserved it. There was almost certainly a better way to deal with it, but he couldn't think of it in time to stop her from running away to Scotland with her brother.

He had thought briefly about sending Bash to release her from the tower and bring her to either the chambers they shared or to her own previous chambers if she so chose. He had even told the guards to accept it if Bash came to get her. But he shouldn't be taking that way out. If she wanted to rage at him, he would let her. He only wanted to keep her safe! She, above anyone, should know what it's like to make a decision for someone for that person's own safety. He had forgiven her. Surely, they would move past this as well.

Turning the corner, he noticed that no guards were posted at the door of the tower. Upon closer inspection, the room appeared to be empty. He grasped the handle and discovered that Mary was missing from the room.

His anger flared but was immediately replaced by concern. Had she found a way out of the castle and onto a ship bound for the North Sea? He had to find someone who knew where she had gone. He broke into a run as he neared his own room, hoping against hope that she would be safe and inside that room. Right outside the door, he found the normal guards that flanked his door when it was occupied. This gave him hope as they wouldn't be there if the room was empty. Pausing outside, unsure if he should ask the guards if they knew where Mary was, or if he should pretend nothing was wrong- he didn't want to invite gossip. But then he heard laughter. The laughter of more than one person.

He readily identified the voices of Mary and of Bash. His blood boiled. His jealousy was always just a fraction of a centimeter below the surface when it came to Mary and Bash. He threw the door open and his anger was tempered when he saw Kenna in the room as well.

At Francis' entrance, Bash leapt up and Kenna's smile slipped from her face as she looked from Mary to Francis. Mary's face had turned stony upon seeing him. Her emotions drained.

"Ahh, should I act surprised that my wife was able to convince you to bring her out of where I had left her? You're still eating out of the palm of her hand, and in front of your own wife?" Francis scoffed. The anger had risen in the faces of all three individuals. He could tell he had struck a nerve, very well, he couldn't see a good reason for all of them to be in here anyway.

"Your wife, Francis, was locked in a tower upon your order. Why give me permission to go and get her if you actually didn't want me to do so? Were you so afraid of her anger that you thought you would send me after her so that you could cower here, waiting to see her reaction? She's a formidable woman, but I can't imagine you really being that cowardly brother." Bash was breathing heavily and Kenna had joined his side. She was squeezing his hand and running a hand up and down his arm.

Feeling ready to burst with anger, Francis took a step forward just as Kenna began speaking, "Bash, I think we've overstayed our welcome, we had better be going." She threw a glance at Mary and received a nod. Mary knew what she was doing and that she had to handle this upcoming verbal altercation with her husband and future king. Bash, however was reluctant to move.

"Your wife is trying to pull you away to give you a reprieve. I suggest you take her up on this offer." Francis had clasped his hands behind his back and stepped out of the path to the doorway.

Bash pulled the pair to a stop just as they came level with Francis, "I would just like to remind you, brother, that my wife is clever and compassionate, just as yours is skillful, cunning, and can be shrewd. It shouldn't surprise you that they could conspire to assure Mary's freedom. Remember that." He then let Kenna all but pull him from the room.

When the two were left alone, Mary went to the wine glass she had abandoned upon his entrance. She took a pull from it, set it down with a sharp rap on the table and sat down in front of the glowing fire expectantly. She wasn't going to start this conversation for him.

Francis quickly covered the distance between them and sat down next to her. Far closer than she had been expecting him to do. She wasn't sure how this would all play out, but she wasn't expecting to see anything other than anger from him, yet he sat so close, as though this was going to be a sweet, intimate conversation.

A deep breath in, a deep release, another deep breath in, "I-" he began but paused. He reached for her hand, which she allowed and whilst caressing the knuckles, he tried again, "I was panicked that you had found a way to leave and go to Scotland, without me, without protection, and without understanding the source of my concerns. I thought I could lose you when I saw that the door to the tower was unlocked and the room within empty." He looked up to match eyes with her. He felt triumphant that she looked a slight bit less angry than she had and that she hadn't been expecting the conversation to take this turn. He had actually been panicking, but the point of telling her was to try to soften her for what he knew was going to be a seriously difficult conversation with much shouting, hurtful words, and accusations.

His hope that she would also be calmed by his words was proven false very quickly. "Because you thought that I would scurry through this castle like a rat that we banish in order to leave you, Francis? You know me better than that. I am the Queen of Scotland, but I am also your consort here and I would not abandon France. I had every intention of going with you into negotiations with the Cardinal, helping them to get wrapped up so that we could be on our way. If you still refused, I might have gone on alone, but not in secret or to oppose you. My people need me and you stifled me. You realize that your actions could be considered an act of war? You imprisoned a visiting, reigning monarch!" She had jumped up from the seat by this point and was staring down at him, huffing from the exertion and from anger both.

Francis put his head in his hands, "You were going to help me." He whispered the words. He shook his head and scrubbed at his face, hard. He heard her walk away from him. He raised his head and saw her sit down at her vanity and begin to brush her hair. He waited for her to argue again. He knew her well enough that these were not the only words she had for him. He had left her alone, angry, and betrayed for at least an hour. He wasn't sure how long it had taken Bash to go and get her. He knew she had plenty of time to stew over the injustice of it all, as she would see it. He knew that she had planned and rehearsed all that time what she would say to him.

Slowly pulling a brush through the same lock of hair over and over again. Mary considered her next move. She was a wife. She was a queen. She was a future queen-consort. She had many roles to play. Right now, she was just so tired of it all. Truth be told, she wasn't even that angry. Understanding the reasons and agreeing aren't the same but understand she did. However, if she caved right now to her husband's plans, what kind of a precedent would that set? She still planned to deny him at every step of the way that she found unjust. She could not allow him to think that he won this fight.

She continued to pull the brush through that same piece. She met her husband's eyes in the looking-glass, both unwilling to be the ones to make the next move. Finally, he stood with a deep sigh.

Stepping lightly around the furniture separating the two, Francis gently took the brush from his wife's hand and laid it on the table with a soft clink. Attempting to sense if she was going to allow his touch, he gently laid his hands on her shoulders. He didn't want to breathe the first words of this argument because he knew it wasn't going to go well for him, but he also knew that she was unwilling to begin, "Mary, we need to talk about what is actually bothering you. We need to discuss what happened tonight so that we can both move forward."

Anger suddenly burned bright in her eyes again, "Move Forward? Move forward, Francis?" She stood up quickly, moving out of his grasp. "You speak as though this is a quick discussion we must have before moving on with our lives rather than a discussion _about_ our lives! Our lives together are fraught with dangers within and without, yet our biggest problems again and again are each other."

"Don't say that," Francis tried to reach for her hands, but she pulled them back against her stomach, out of his reach, "we are married, we face problems together and we disagree, but we are united together. Your burdens are mine just as mine are yours."

Looking out the window at the starry skies above, Mary said a quick prayer for strength and patience for this conversation. They would need it. Turning back to her husband, Mary measured her words, "I am aware that marriages are give and take, although having never really seen a properly functioning one, I'm not sure how that is supposed to work. So much of our marriage has been mistakes and apologies. All either of us has to go off of is your parents' marriage and there were never apologies given! I don't know how we do this, but I do know that we have to trust each other more than we clearly do. I'm not angry, Francis. I'm deeply hurt that you didn't trust me to come with you willingly. I'm hurt, more, that you didn't trust me to not abandon you at this time. What kind of wife would that make me? I thought I had proven myself beyond that."

It was Francis' turn to become livid. "Proven yourself, Mary? Proven yourself?! How is what you've done recently proving yourself? You've left me out of plans left and right, you've made plans behind my back that would have brought France to its knees! You've threatened my mother and father and their rule- making it incredibly difficult to come to your aid against them.

I've tried, every step of the way, to give you space, comfort, counsel, love, and forgiveness. More than most husbands would ever afford to their wives. Because I love you, despite everything, despite all of the heartache that has come from our union, despite knowing that it would have been easier on both of us had this marriage not happened, I love you. I want nothing else than the two of us overcoming everything together." His face looked almost manic in its emphasis now. Had she not seen Francis truly angry before, this might have unnerved he. Still, she knew what was to come next from his mouth and she knew that she deserved it.

He gripped her shoulders, and she looked away at first before squaring those shoulders and meeting his accusation full in the face, "Mary, I've been truly angry with you only once before. That was when you took everything from me. You speak of trust, but where was your trust then? We were already planning a life together. You ask me how I could not trust you to stay here, with me? You've changed the courses of nations before when it was not convenient for you to have me, then you changed the courses of nations because you believed some prophecy. Now I thought I was past this, I thought that I had forgiven you of that, but the same issues keep coming up!" He released her and turned away. His eyes had begun to tear up. She detected a quick sniffle as he composed himself and she longed to reach out to him, but now was not the time.

Clasping her hands in front of her skirts, she sat back down and patted the seat next to her pointedly. Francis chose to lean himself against the desk and keep a distance between the two of them. She nodded and then continued on. "Francis, what I did, I have explained to you. You told me to marry Tomas, if you remember. And I stand by what I did when I tried to have Bash legitimized. I'm sorry for what it did to you. I'm sorry for the consequences of it, except for Jean of course, and I'm sorry that you still feel betrayed by it. However, I would rather have you alive than dead. I would rather you were safe and I never to see you again than that you be dead after only being married to me for a short time. I cannot bear that thought, Francis."

Composing herself and straightening up again, she continued, "You speak of the same issues, Francis, well I don't see them. Please, enlighten me. I see four very distinct situations. My engagement to Tomas, which, again, you suggested. That was me trying to find the best place for myself among very hostile people and situations as our alliance had not been solidified. My decision to try to have Bash legitimized was me trying to save your life, a decision that, again, I will not apologize for as I have just stated. The decision you alluded to earlier where I sent riders out in case your mother wouldn't concede the contract, I was once again trying to save my life! In case it's slipped your notice, my life hasn't been easy here at French court and it has been threatened several times. Should I have told you before I sent the riders out? Possibly. Probably. But what practical difference would it have made? I still would have sent out the riders and this time you would have known and been angry at me even longer for it. And this," she stood again to stand toe to toe with Francis, "this has been about my people and you not trusting me enough to stand by your side even as they suffer because I trust you to stand by your word and help the people of Scotland."

Tears began to stream down her face now, making it hard for Francis to refrain from wiping them away and taking her into his arms. The fact that through the nature of this conversation, he still ached to comfort her, well, he took it as a good sign. The outcome of this conversation would not break their marriage, but oh it hurt. "The underlying cause of all of these issues, merited or not, is that you are acting on your own. You are not acting as though I am your husband, your equal, and your other half." He side-stepped out of her line of view and sat down at the seat at the window. The emotions were becoming too strong and he needed distance to continue to speak. He looked back at her. "We took vows and declared our souls to be one in front of God and country and yet you leave me out of plans and schemes and you make decisions on your own!"

Standing again, abruptly, Francis seemed at a loss for where to go. He felt trapped in this room. He began to pace. "Do you really not see that it would have made a difference to me, and to our marriage, to this level of trust you continue to speak of, if you had told me that you had sent out the riders? My mother is willing to conspire against you, but not against me. If you had kept me informed, you needn't have sent out riders at all, you could have had the information here and if my mother hadn't caved, then I could have sent out the information to use for blackmail. We could have found a way to make it work together! But you refuse to let me in fully. You've had no one for your whole life that was truly on your side: your ladies love you and would die for you, but they have their own families and loved ones to care for. _I_ am your family. _I_ am truly for you. You need to let me in, Mary!" He stared desperately at her from across the room. 'If you cannot do that, then what kind of marriage do we have?"

During her husband's speech, Mary had taken up his space with one hip against the desk. Tears were falling more quickly now, "Francis, you are the only man who I let see me cry. You are the only man I let in enough to see this weakness. I love you, Francis, I do. I just don't know where to go from here. I don't know what to do next." She swiped at her eyes and closed them tightly. It was true, he was the only man she would dare show this weakness in front of, but he was not wrong. She never had fully let him into her mind. Her heart? It was all his, but her head still had plenty of walls thrown up against anyone and anything that would try to get in. This was the reason that she felt so much for Sterling. He was a dog. He wanted nothing more than affection and couldn't tell her plans that she shared to anyone. But Francis. Her future king, husband, lover, and king-consort. He was well on the way to becoming the most important person in her life and that terrified her. She needed to be able to sacrifice everything for Scotland. Her people needed to come first. Just as the people of France had to come first for him.

"I have an idea." Francis' voice was small, his face was stoic, but determined. "It will be hard, it might be painful. It may even cause more arguments later in our lives." He spanned the room in a matter of seconds to finish wiping away his wife's tears. He chuckled as he began speaking, "this may seem like an odd thing to have to say, but clearly we do. And as you said, we have no real idea of what a functional marriage looks like, we must figure it out as we go." He stepped back and slid his hands down her arms to link their hands.

For all of his talk about her not letting him in, he was still very dependent on his mother for advice and for allegiance. This would be just as much of a sacrifice for him as it would be for her. He took a deep calming breath, "I propose to you that we tell each other everything. There are to be no secrets of plans from each other. If we must act quickly without consulting each other, then we tell the other soon after. Nothing will be told to us by someone else first. We must act as one. We will one day rule France and Scotland as one and at that point we must be each other's strongest allies. Do you agree?"

Looking up into the eyes of her husband, unsure how he could be so forgiving of so much and yet seem to always be seeking her forgiveness, she responded, "I will accept on two conditions: first, that you are patient with me as this is going to be difficult. Ask me questions just as I ask you and be quick to forgive until all of this sharing becomes a habit." She waited for him to agree as this one was harder than her next request.

Francis leaned forward and kissed her forehead, to offer his assurance as well as to hide his own fears. He had the same misgivings, but, "I promise to work with you as long as your will swear the same to me. And the second?"

Giving his fingers a squeeze as their hands hung intertwined at their sides, she began, "You speak of ourselves as our strongest allies. Promise me that you won't forget that especially here, in this room, we are man and wife. We are not just allies; we are spouses, friends, confidants, lovers, and everything else to each other as we keep growing our marriage. You said before that our burdens are the same, and we mustn't forget that. Ever."

Unlinking their hands, he cupped her face, both wearing big smiles, "I think I can manage that." He kissed her deeply, pressing her back against the desk. Pulling back, he swooped her up into his arms and began moving toward the bed, "Shall we start reminding ourselves of that right now?"

Mary's assent was lost amidst the giggles of the two young lovers re-uniting in their bed.

 ** _A/N: I have a larger fic in the works that could be a companion piece to this, but we'll see how quickly that gets put up!_**


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